


Playtime

by Totoffle



Category: Take That
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-30
Updated: 2012-07-30
Packaged: 2017-11-11 00:59:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/472703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Totoffle/pseuds/Totoffle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gary gets grumpy with Mark after his little banana joke...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playtime

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first TT fic I ever felt happy enough with to post!
> 
> After seeing the GIFs of Mark eating a banana during The Flood, this fic just wrote itself, (probably because I have a thing about grumpy!dominant!Gaz...). This didn't end up as porny as I had orignally intended, but it does include references to other, possibly more interesting pastimes ;-) Actually, it nearly ended up as sassy!Mark, but it's still very much subby!Mark. Anyway, it's all quite silly, but any excuse for dominant!Gaz...

It's his lips that do it.

It's bad enough with all of the thrusting and gyrating and hugging and groping that goes on, and his arse in those tight gold trousers... But his lips are a different matter entirely. Seeing them close so delicately, so pink and soft and moist and...  _Guhhhh_!

As he sits in the back of the car on his way to the hotel, all Gary can think is, ' _Mark and that bloody banana!'_

~

Yes, it's late, and  _yes_ , they're both exhausted from the show, but that hasn't stopped them from arguing in the past, and it certainly won't stop them now.

"God, you're a right grumpy git at times, Gary Barlow."

Gary frowns at that, no matter how much he secretly agrees with it. Agreeing isn't allowed, that ruins the game. It's a good way to pass the time between shows, bickering about anything and everything, just because they've got nothing better to do. Especially as the 'making up' part normally comes well before the argument's natural end.

This time Gary is quite happy to let it run its full course. This time he doesn't think he'd mind if it went on all night. This time it almost  _isn't_  a game (and yet it so is), because he really is feeling bloody grumpy about it all.

He still didn't need to be reminded of said characteristic, though.

"And you're fucking ridiculous, Mark."

Mark sighs, flinging his arms out to the side with his palms facing upwards. The classic  _'you just don’t get what I'm trying to say, Gary'_  pose. He's seen it a thousand times – during arguments over song-writing, dance routines, who did the washing up last, which way to drive to the studio, why eating a banana on stage right in front of Gary wasn't a very kind thing to do...

"Why? What the fuck have I done to put you in this foul mood?"

Gary is convinced that Mark knows exactly what the issue is, but he's exceptionally good at feigning innocence. Gary can see right through it.

"Oh, plenty of things," Gary huffs, but his anger has melted somewhat. Bloody Mark and his bloody gorgeous face. "Eating that banana during  _The Flood_ , for a start."

A conflicting idea begins to take shape in Gary's head, and he briefly wonders whether he really wants to go ahead with it. He's still really pissed off about everything, but ending the argument early would be  _so good_...

"It was only a joke, Gaz! A joke meant to wind  _Rob_  up. Christ, I know it probably wasn't very professional, but I still don't understand why it's pissed  _you_  off so much."

 _Fuck it_ , Gary thinks.  _I'm too horny to argue._

He twists his lips into a smile that he knows is slightly intimidating, but that's just what Mark gets for what he's been doing. "Don't you?" he asks in a low, dangerous whisper, taking a step closer. Out of petulance, it seems, Mark doesn’t blink. "Well, I'll tell you, shall I?"

"Yeah, please do."

"No," Gary says, his libido taking charge of the situation (which is the norm for him when Mark is involved). "I've changed my mind." He places his hands on Mark's shoulders and holds him there for as long as he dares, even though he knows full well that Mark would never try and wriggle out of his grip – certainly not when Gary is looking at him like he is. "You're gonna show me."

Mark smirks at that. "How can I show you if I don't know wha-"

But he's silenced as Gary pushes him roughly to his knees, the carpeted floor not providing much in the way of comfort. Gary doesn't care too much, because it's all part of the game. 

Only he's not quite sure just how much he's actually playing, tonight.

Mark looks almost too good on the floor, gazing up with knowing eyes, and Gary has to take a few deep breaths to stop it all getting too much, too fast. He, Captain Barlow, Master and Commander of the Take That Ship,  _needs_  to keep his control over the one and only man that nearly makes him want to surrender it.

But not quite.

"That's better," he says, once he feels in command of everything again – Mark especially. "You suit that position."

Now Mark is glaring at him, but it's playful. The slight curve of his mouth and the crinkling of his eyes give it away every time. "Even so, I'm not planning on staying here all night..." He licks his lips deliberately slowly, and Gary feels his cock twitch. "So you'd better hurry up and  _use me_."

Bastard. Mark knows full well how much that sort of thing turns him on, knows how dominating and powerful it makes him feel. He knows that it normally makes Gary want to throw him onto the bed and fuck him senseless – but Gary's already decided that he wants him on his knees, and he won't allow his mind to be changed.

Not tonight, anyway.

"Oh, I fully intend to."

Gary's hand flies to his belt, and it's undone in seconds, before two of his fingers flick the button open. The zip has already been pushed down a little by his rapidly stiffening cock, and he doesn't have to work too hard to free his now aching erection.

And Mark's hands are suddenly there too, deftly releasing Gary's cock from his underwear, and immediately sucking it into his mouth.

"Fuck!" Gary hisses, the sensation taking him completely by surprise. "That's it, that's... that's what I want..."

Instinctively, Gary slides his hand around to the back of Mark's head, not actually needing to push him but loving the idea that he  _could_  if he wanted to, and Mark wouldn't protest. His fingers twist until they are firmly caught in Mark's hair, binding them together even more. 

It doesn't put Mark off when Gary squeezes the muscles in his hand, tugging on the hair wrapped around it – if anything it spurs him on, as if that was an unconscious warning that he'd  _better make this fucking brilliant after what you did_. Gary hadn't meant it like that (in fact, he hadn't meant to do it at all), but when Mark sucks extra hard _once-twice-three times_ , he's glad that his fingers had acted of their own accord, mentally promising them a good work out on the piano the next morning for being so brilliantly mischievous.

His knees are shaking quite badly now, and Gary thinks he'll fall over if he doesn't support himself somehow. He reaches behind him and feels the arm of the plush hotel sofa. With one hand still threaded through Mark's hair, he takes a step backwards and lowers himself onto it. Mark doesn't stop for a second, carefully following the movement of Gary's body so that he's positioned between his legs.

"Jesus, Mark..." Gary groans, thrusting his hips forward without even thinking about it – but it's okay because he knows exactly how much Mark can handle, and he's not even close. "Don't stop..."

Mark clearly has no intention of doing such a thing. He takes Gary even deeper into his mouth, and Gary can't keep his eyes from closing as he feels the head of his cock hitting the back of Mark's throat, his skilled tongue continuing to swirl around the shaft.

They've done this so many times, but every time Gary is sure that it's  _The Best Time_. And every time he wonders who on earth taught Mark how to do it in the first place, and how he could ever repay them.

For some reason, Mark is only using his mouth, and Gary goes to correct it with his free hand. But, in an act of defiance that surprises him, Mark bats it away and shakes his head, causing his front teeth to graze gently against Gary's cock.

"Oh," Gary groans, trying to keep his voice steady and authoritative, "I'll have to punish you for that, Markie..."

But they both know that won't be happening anytime soon, because as much as he enjoys that sort of thing, Gary never wants this to end, especially due to the _Disciplining Mark Owen_  images that are now swimming in front of his eyes - and whether they involve pimp canes, handcuffs, collars or whips, all of them have one thing in common: Mark's voice pleading for it to stop, but his eyes begging for more.

His eyes always betray him. Through all of the  _oww that hurts you bastard_  and the  _please no stop I can't take anymore_ , Mark's eyes shine with adoration and worship and need, and Gary loves to watch them roll back, the lids fluttering prettily until they close completely, finally surrendering all control to him. 

There are so many sides to Mark, but that's how Gary loves him best: compliant, obedient, trusting.

Thoughts of previous games flash quickly through his mind as Mark sucks his cock even further into his mouth, so far that Gary is convinced he's going to feel the tip of Mark's nose press into his pubic hair at any moment. Gary gives an experimental push to see just how much further he can go, and he cries out as he feels Mark relax his jaw so that he can take him all the way in.

Gary soon forgets about being commanding and forgets about being in control; all he can do is obey Mark and his amazing, beautiful,  _perfect_  tongue as they coax him towards the edge.

He tries his best to last as long as possible, but in the end the wet heat of Mark's mouth and the light scraping of his teeth and the lapping of his tongue is all just too much, and Gary, muttering things that even he doesn't understand, comes in thick spurts down Mark's throat.

Panting hard, Gary uncurls his fingers and carefully slides them out of Mark's sweat-soaked hair, dragging them sluggishly down his face until his hand drops onto the sofa. He doesn't think that anybody has ever loved anyone else quite as much as he loves Mark right at this very moment.

He opens his eyes just in time to see Mark draw away, his own eyes closed tightly as he tilts his head back and swallows the last drops. It's an image that Gary will never tire of.

"Well?" Mark asks, licking his lips again. "How was that?"

"Fucking  _brilliant_."

Mark laughs. "Well, you certainly looked like you were having a good time!"

"Wh-what about you?" Gary asks, still slightly out of breath. "Don't you need to...?"

The grin plastered on Mark's face is nothing short of  _filthy_ , and Gary loves it probably more than he should. "Already taken care of, thanks to you threatening to punish me... Reckon me pants'll be needing a good wash, though."

To prove his point, Mark gets to his feet and clambers onto the sofa, his crotch right in Gary's face. There's no mistaking that scent, and Gary drinks it all in, trying to work out exactly when Mark had come. He had been so wrapped up in his own pleasure that he'd completely missed the spectacle of Mark's orgasm (which would've upset him if he didn't already know that there would be hundreds of similar opportunities in the future - possibly the next morning, or maybe even in a couple of hours' time). 

"That’s pretty fucking sexy," Gary says. He reaches up and pulls Mark close, their lips brushing together so lightly that he can only just feel it. "And I'd quite like to hear more – but I'm bloody knackered, now."

Wordlessly, Mark nods, standing up again. He extends his hand and Gary takes it, allowing Mark to take the lead.

"Let's go to bed, yeah?"

"I always knew you were the brains of the group, Markie."

They kiss lazily as they undress one another – well, Mark does most of the undressing, but Gary does insist that he removes Mark's sopping wet underwear for him – both blissfully happy and content with what they have.

As he sinks into the comfort of the hotel bed, Gary has a few things on his mind. He thinks about how fucking brilliant it is being Gary Barlow right at that moment – what with the fantastic show and that amazing blowjob and having Mark Owen wrapped up tightly in his arms.

But, even more than that, he wonders where he could send Mark to get him a huge slice of banoffee pie at this time of night...


End file.
